Killer
by Klappy
Summary: Life is and will never be fair. At least, not for Killua.
1. The White Assassin

**A/N: **_Sou…sou…konnichiwa, minna-san._ It's been a very long time, hasn't it? For those people that remember me from before (and still do), this would might as well be my "comeback" here in the HxH section. So here is my comeback fanfiction featuring Hunter X Hunter's very own _thrill pair_. Enjoy!

**Warning(s):** This fanfiction is appropriately rated-T and/or PG-13 for its grim storyline, bloodshed and vile language in selected scenes (sorry). _Grammar/spelling errors_ are to be expected as well as _OOC _(can't live without it). And yes: _Shounen-ai_ or boy x boy relationship is naturally present. My sincere apologies for those that cannot tolerate such content but I am not regretful at the least. So don't sue. Those who like, READ—those who don't, then spare me. Clear? Good.

This story belongs to the AU or Alternate Universe category. Same characters, but an entirely different setting.

**Disclaimer: **_Hunter X Hunter _and its characters belong to Yoshihiro Togashi. But this story and its plot are rightfully mine.

**KILLER**

Life is and will never be fair.

This maxim that was to be forever engraved in his mind gave him the perfect reason for his actions. There was not a single matter in the world that was fair. Frankly, the particular word should not have existed at all. It was a grave insult to his pride, to know that some people actually believed that there was justice in this earth. Well…there was none. And he was more than willing to prove his point.

"Mr. Zaoldyeck?"

A middle-aged waiter approached him just as the bartender fixed him his Bloody Mary. He eyed the waiter from his peripheral vision and gave a nod to indicate that he was indeed 'Mr. Zaoldyeck'.

"Don Zenburu wishes to see you this instant, Mr. Zaoldyeck." Two men then came behind the waiter, both wearing tuxedos over their bulky frames. "These men will accompany you to his suite."

Killua gave the three males an expressionless stare then shrugged. He pulled back a sleeve and checked his watch: 11:30. Their agreed time was midnight, but he came earlier just for a passing whim. He did not expect, though, for his client to be this enthusiastic to send for him before the allotted time. Or maybe he actually did.

He finished the Bloody Mary in three gulps then proceeded with the men in tuxedos to Don Zenburu's suite. As they rode the elevator to the topmost floor of the hotel, Killua gazed at his reflection on the glass-lined walls inside. He wore a tight black turtleneck and denim jeans, just as agreed. His attire was mainly for the purpose of recognition, but in his own opinion, it was unnecessary for he was noticeable enough because of his pearl white complexion and hair color.

The elevator stopped with a _ting_ sound and they stepped out onto an empty hallway. Their footsteps steps echoed on the marble flooring as they walked. Killua had counted about three doors before they stopped in front of a mahogany double-door.

One of the men in the tuxedos spoke to the intercom beside the door. "Don Zenburu, you're guest has arrived."

They waited a second or so before a voice replied. "Let him in."

The same man swiped a card and the door was unlocked. He turned the brass doorknob and opened the door quietly, then ushered Killua inside.

It was a six-room suite, the Majestic Suite, and was truly fit for royalty. The walls were painted scarlet with linings of beige. Euphorbia and potpourris decorated the corners of the room, and extravagant paintings adorned the walls. A posh red carpet covered the marble flooring. Floor-to-ceiling windows occupied one part of the wall and currently gave a spectacular evening view of the city of _York Shin_, glittered with hundreds of flashing lights that appeared like tiny jewels.

A king-sized bed occupied the center of the room. Killua noticed a figure lounging on the bed, and it did not take him a second to know that it was his client.

"Ah…it is so good to see you again, Killua, _darling_." Don Zenburu cooed from the bed, putting a stress on the word 'darling'. He was a thin and frail-built man, in the middle of his thirties, rich, spoiled, and a _pedophile_. Killua shivered. Disgusting.

He suddenly regretted agreeing to that deal.

"Now, now, my darling, come here. I have been waiting _impatiently_ for this…" Don Zenburu's words trailed off as Killua approached the bed casually. The boy jerked when Don Zenburu suddenly forced him to his lap, strangling Killua around the waist. "My, my…you have such a light weight." He whispered huskily in Killua's ear and stroked his snow-white hair. Killua felt himself shiver slightly at the look of lust in Don Zenburu's eyes, although his own eyes reflected no emotion at all. Blank. Void of any emotion.

Don Zenburu raised a brow when he noticed Killua's expressionless gaze. He felt annoyed. He disliked arrogant boys, but he had to admit that when it comes to bed, they were always the best choice. All he needed to do was crack the ice.

He bit on Killua's right ear and felt the boy flinch, but that was it. Killua didn't even do as much as shiver when his hands came down his chest and roamed on his inner thighs. It was as if the boy did not feel anything at all.

Don Zenburu did not like it at all. He wanted to feel the thrill. He wanted challenge from the boy.

Killua gasped momentarily when Don Zenburu pinned him down on the bed and bit his ear again, this time leaving a nasty teeth mark. The older male was breathing heavily, obviously consumed in his lust by now.

"I want challenge, darling. That is our deal." He said huskily in Killua's hair. "Thirty thousand zennies is what you want, isn't it? It's yours if you give me what _I_ want." A shrill lust-filled laugh came from him, and Killua felt himself getting more annoyed.

He was uncomfortable, of course; this was the first time he let a stranger actually touch him. And it was going to be the last.

"_Sou, sou…wakatte na_." Killua said in a low voice, enough to convince Don Zenburu that he was finally going to comply. "_Demou sa_… you haven't told me yet exactly how you get your money? Last time we talked you only told me you were rich. Thirty thousand zennies is a huge amount. If you are as rich as you say, you'd be able to give me more. And maybe…_I_ can give you more as well." Killua finished with a sly smile coupled with a flirtatious wink. He wanted to throw up.

But then Don Zenburu was convinced, maybe even more, and he welcomed Killua's challenge willingly. "Is that all you want to know, darling? Well, of course, I can give you more. You see, I won a huge company, and I can spend money for eternity. Now how about you, darling? _What_ are you really, besides being strangled up in bed once in a while?" Yes, he actually believed Killua was the same as he. How fatal his mistake was…

A devilish grin appeared on Killua's face as his eyes turned cold and ruthless. "Me?" His grin widened as Don Zenburu attempted for a kiss. "I'm just a _killer_."

Don Zenburu did not even have a chance to scream as a knife cut through his throat. He scrambled backwards and fell off the bed as he gasped for air. Blood flowed from the deep gash on his neck and drenched his nightgown with blood. He coughed and sputtered more blood.

Killua sat up on the bed and stared down at him, the blood-stained knife cold to his touch. He was smiling malevolently. He relished the fear in the dying man's eyes, clearly screaming out: why the hell he did such a thing? Killua answered.

"I told you. I'm a killer. I _kill_."

The knife pierced through Don Zenburu's throat and with a last heave of his chest, he was dead.

A huge sigh escaped Killua's lips as he lay back down on the king-sized bed. His job was done, finished, just like that. Somehow, the simplicity of it annoyed him. Jobs like this one were just too easy.

He took out his beetle-shaped cell phone and dialed a number. A woman answered on the third ring.

"Dead." Killua had to stop himself from yawning.

The woman was silent for a while, and when she spoke Killua could determine that she was indeed very pleased. "Good." Her voice was low and intriguing. "When you exit the hotel a little boy will hand you a red envelope. Fifty thousand zennies, as agreed. I don't suppose this is our last conversation?"

"Suppose you will want someone else to be dead, I guess not." He cut the line and stood from the bed. The bloody corpse was sprawled on the scarlet mat, the puddle of blood barely noticeable with the color of the carpet. Killua stared at it for a second and walked towards the door. A knock brought the men outside to open the door, and without a word, Killua walked past the two of them. It did not take long for their horrified screams to fill every corner of the hotel's topmost floor. But Killua was already descending towards the ground floor by then.

As expected, a little boy clad in rags approached him the moment he went past the revolving doors. A bright red envelope was shoved into his hands before the boy hurried away rather excitedly. Killua shrugged and tucked the envelope inside his pocket. There was no need to count. He did his part of the bargain, it was only appropriate for the client to do the same. If not, then the odds were practically with him anyway…

A black BMW drove by and Killua caught a glimpse of a blonde woman from inside. She made a quick gesture with the cigarette on her hand before the car sped away.

She was called 'Madame Sphytz', if Killua remembered correctly, and was obviously the one who ordered Don Zenburu's death. It had been a matter concerning a marriage that went wrong and something else. Not that he cared much about the details. What he cared about was the money-filled enveloped that was in his pocket and some expensive jewelry that he hitched from the suite upstairs, thinking they were probably worth more than 30,000 zennies.

An hour later, the hotel had turned into a crime scene. The headline: Murder. The culprit: A young lad of about seventeen with white hair and striking, mysterious eyes.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The tapping sound of the dripping water he had been accustomed to was currently not enough to soothe his throbbing nerves. He knew something was wrong. He could _feel_ that something was wrong.

The heavy sounds of the police sirens a few minutes ago had jerked him awake from his dreamless sleep. Fumbling about, he realized that the other half of the bed was empty. He called out but no one answered. It was painfully difficult when you're living in darkness.

Fortunately, then came the light sound of footsteps just outside the door, and he felt himself beam at the familiar way the door sounded when it was opened by a certain someone.

"Killua!"

Killua slightly jerked in surprise. "Gon? Why are you still awake? I thought you were asleep."

"The police sirens woke me. _Ne_…did something happen again, Killu—?" A quick sniff was all he did and Gon already knew the answer to his own question. Killua cursed under his breath as the cheerful expression dissipated from Gon's face. "_Ne_, Killua, you didn't…" His voice trailed off as he set his unseeing gaze towards Killua's direction.

Killua knew a lie would be useless; the smell of blood that emanated from his clothes and hands were still overwhelming.

"Aa" was all he said as he approached the bed and dropped down beside Gon. "Tch…it wasn't even worth the effort. All I did was to take a knife out and, slash!" He mimed the action he did hours ago and spoke in a carefree tone, as if conversing of someone's murder was as typical as that of talking about breakfast. Well, for Killua, it probably was.

He kept talking in the same way and carelessly flinging his hands around, until he felt Gon's fist collide with the back of his head. "Gon! What did you do that for!?" He grabbed hold of Gon's collar and bellowed just as the other boy shouted back at him.

"You know exactly what my reason is, Killua! Why did you do that again!? That's wrong! I've told you that a thousand times and you know it yourself! You're going to get yourself in trouble _again_! You're so stupid!" Gon's sightless, almond eyes burned brighter with pure anger, and Killua knew arguing against him would be useless. Still, he was no less stubborn that Gon was.

"I know that, Gon! But—"

"No, you don't!" This time, Gon felt for the front of Killua's turtleneck and grabbed hold of it too. "Because if you do then you won't do it over and over again!"

"Damn it, Gon! I'm risking my neck just so you can have your operation! I'm not doing this just because I want to!" Killua's voice echoed inside the small room and he, himself, was surprised of the words he just blurted out. He really wasn't comfortable of voicing out his personal reasons, especially to Gon even after all those years he had spent with the boy. He slowly let go of Gon's shirt and let his hand fall languidly onto his lap. "_Dakara_…don't worry, okay? I know what I'm doing."

Gon let go of his shirt as well, but, to Killua's surprise, gave him another hit on the head. "Gon!"

"_Killua no baka!_ Who told you that you can risk your life for my sake anyway!?"

"You'd do the same!"

"And it's only me who can do that! Not you!"

"What?!" Killua's tone of voice turned comically high pitched as he stared at Gon with disbelief. Really…despite his own stubbornness, he could never win against Gon. "Tch! Suit yourself." He fell beck on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head, then stared up at the ceiling and at the huge spider that was currently weaving its web. "I really can't understand you sometimes, Gon."

Gon stuck his tongue out at him and fell back on the bed as well. He did the same as Killua, only...he could not see the ceiling or anything else.

They stayed in that way for a couple of minutes, feeling comfortable and at peace just by being beside each other. The smell of blood that emanated from Killua did not even bother either of them, until Gon noised out about Killua having to go get a shower.

"_Hai. Hai._ I'll do that first thing in the morning." Killua then closed his eyes slowly, now attempting to have the rest he deserved. Before he completely fell asleep though, Gon murmured something that made him smile despite himself.

"Thank you, Killua. But I definitely will not let you do it again." He felt Gon shift on the bed and wasn't surprised when a blanket was draped over his body. "That's a promise."

**A/N:** _Yatta!_ Haha…I actually made it through. I originally planned for it to be a multi-chaptered fanfiction, but the decision now depends on the kind of feedback this story will receive. I do believe this chapter can stand as a one-shot but…well…I'll just have to wait for your reviews and see how things turn out, don't I? I'll be waiting. :)


	2. A Detective's Resolve

**CHAPTER TWO**

One would think that an individual's vocabulary would include but a decent amount of appalling curses, yet that of the chief of police proves to be an exception to the rule. An hour's hour had come and passed, but the end of what seemed like the polar opposite of an educating sermon was nowhere in sight.

After what seemed an eternity, the unfortunate captive was released from hell's replica. Leorio stepped out of the chief's office resembling that of a zombie brought back from the grave.

"Boy, Leorio, you sure had your share." Tompa arrogantly voiced out from behind his table, sneering at Leorio. "Ah… what would you expect from such a lousy job? You've been on that twerp's tail for months and you still haven't caught him. Well, I've told the chief time and time that you weren't up to the job. 'Course if it was me, I would have—ugh!" He was not able to finish his sentence as Leorio grabbed tight hold of the front of his uniform, an aura of contempt emitting from the seemingly deranged bespectacled officer.

"You would have what, huh? You think it's as easy as making sushi, huh? You askin' me to beat the shit outta you, huh!" Leorio spat at the other's face before roughly letting go. "Tch… one of these days that bitch will really get it…"

"What will the bitch get, huh, Le-o-ri-o-san?" A voice filled with venom came from behind him. The door to the chief's office had been left wide open and there stood the chief, her pink-dyed hair tied in two straight ponytails at either side of her head, her eyes burning with malice and killing intent. "Are you tellin' me you haven't had enough, huh? You blabbering, good-for-nothin' idiot!" Menchi's high pitched scream echoed inside the windowless police office. "If you're so smart then you would have caught that little devil in a week's time!"

"I already told you, Chief! He's not your average crimi—"

Menchi snapped at him. "Don't give me that, Inspector. That kid's been a nasty little critter to our department since he was in his diapers, but all the former chiefs of police can't even get a permanent hold of him." She sauntered to an officer who was in the act of lighting a smoke, grabbed the cigarette, and lit it for herself. Propping herself on one of the desks with one of her legs crossed over the other, she took a long pull at the cigarette. "That's why when I became chief, I made it my priority to find that critter, send him _back_ to jail and make sure he gets the death sentence."

"If it's _your_ priority, then why don't you do it yourself?" Leorio grumbled but was then caught by Menchi's deadly glare. "W-What I meant to say was… If you're going to put him back, then that means he'd been caught before, right?"

The chief let out a huge billow of smoke before crushing the rest of the cigarette stick on the desk. "So you _do_ use your head." She said, much to Leorio's annoyance. "You're right; he _had_ been caught before." She got off the desk and fixed her police skirt which was far too short than what was allowed. "The one who caught him was only a fresh graduate detective, yet he was the only one who had enough balls to chase relentlessly after that kid." Grabbing her coat from the rack, she continued. "But the chief at that time was a lousy asshole who cared more about sugar-coated pretzels than his own neck."

"His neck?"

"What? You didn't know what happened back then?" Menchi turned to the rest of the squad with an amused look on her face.

"Well," Tompa started with his croaky voice. "We knew the chief that time died that's why he was replaced."

The chief clicked her tongue at them. "Yeah, he died." She paused. Then with a devious smirk she said, "He died because he lost half of his neck while questioning the kid on his own."

Left and right, the officers were either choking on their cigarettes or spluttering at their coffee. Even Tompa was dumbfounded at what Menchi just said. "H-Half of his…n-neck?"

"Yup. Scraped clean. When we found him, his windpipe was staring out at us as if to say 'hi'. He was lucky to still have his head intact. The boys at the morgue sure had a hard time patching his throat up." Menchi said matter-of-factly. She stared with amusement at the baffled expression on each officer's face. "Oh yeah, you imbeciles are all new, aren't you? It's still the talk among us who were part of the force at that time."

After a few more seconds of stunned silence, Leorio, wide-eyed and covered in cold sweat, gawked at their chief. "That kid's that dangerous? Then how do you expect me to catch him?!"

"Obviously, I don't expect you to." Leorio cringed at the sarcasm in Menchi's voice. "The only person who can catch him is the one who caught him before."

"Great! Assign _him_ to this case instead of me, then."

"I can't do that, you idiot. He quit from the police force when the twerp got loose again."

"WHAT?!" Leorio's jaw dropped. "If he's not here anymore, then that means we won't be able to catch that kid!"

"And here I thought you actually had a brain." Said Menchi as she draped her coat around her and headed towards the door. "I only said that he quit, not that he's dead or something."

"So you know how to contact him?"

With a sly smile forming from the corners of her mouth, Menchi replied, "I'm not chief for nothing, Inspector. Keep that in that empty skull of yours." With that she let herself out of the room and into a rather dingy sort of hallway, leaving the rest of her team more baffled than airheads stuck in a conference for geniuses.

York Shin.

It had been exactly three years to date when he left the city under the resolve of never returning. Life was so ironic it was revolting.

A waiter approached his table with a cup of freshly brewed Italian Cappuccino. Thanking him, Kurapika held the cup to his face and inspected the dark liquid. He swirled the coffee slightly and took a sip.

"I see you haven't changed at all."

Tilting his head slightly to the side, Kurapika let out a chuckle. "The same applies to you, _Senpai_. No," he placed the cup down on the table and looked behind his shoulder. "Chief Inspector Menchi."

Menchi let out a breathy laugh and took the seat across Kurapika. "Is it just me, or do I hear sarcasm in the way you addressed me?" Crossing one leg over the other, she gave the same threatening sneer she gave to her subordinates. The blond in front of her only raised his palms in a gesture of defeat, and then called for a waiter to bring him another cup of coffee.

When the order came, Menchi set the cup aside and stared straight at Kurapika. "I'll go straight to the point, though I'm certain that you already know what that point is."

Kurapika took another sip of his coffee. Indeed, he knew exactly why he had received a call from York Shin Police Department's Chief Inspector, his former senior in the Academy and during his time in the force. There could only be one reason.

"Has it become an obsession as I had presupposed?"

"_More than_ an obsession." Passion burned in her eyes as the Chief pounded her fists hard on the coffee table. "I want that twerp caught and I want it _now_. Which obviously," she pointed at Kurapika, "requires your expertise."

With that, Kurapika let out another breathy chuckle. "My expertise is to apprehend slanderous infidels and search for missing _chouchou_. But all modesty aside, you have not yet guaranteed that the incident three years ago will not repeat itself. But then again…" He rose slowly from his seat. "Who am I to deny you of your request, _Senpai_?"

Menchi smirked back at the blond. "But of course. I am still your senior and nothing is to change that fact." She, too, rose from her seat and offered a hand to Kurapika. "And while you're at it, you could do me another favor and return to the squad. Law enforcers these days are obese ducks if not anorexic airheads. A good example would be my subordinates." She grumbled with disgust. "I, of all people know that chasing after dogs is not the best of your skills."

Taking the Chief's hand, Kurapika grunted. "It's not. And forgive me, but I won't. Cooperating with a group simply isn't my forte."

"As three years ago, you'll work on it alone."

Kurapika's reply was a simple smile that was both true and false. He sat back down after the Chief left and swirled what was left of his Cappuccino, various thoughts swirling inside his head as that of the viscous liquid. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he stared at the dark substance, contemplating the reason why he agreed to undertake the case despite his internal irresolution. He had an explicit reason why he left York Shin; now, it was the very same reason why he had returned.

"So we _will_ meet again, won't we, Killua?"

…**To be continued…**

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**A/N: **Some people actually put this on alert that, to tell the truth, I'm quite surprised. Thank you! :) To clarify one thing, my thrill pair here is Killua and Kurapika, not Gon. As you've said, Gon is too naive and I'll leave him as that. As to what happens next… I have ideas but I'm open for new ones, so spare me a review or two. _Matta ne_.


	3. Secrets of Past

**A/N: **I'm still alive, unfortunately. ;D

I'm on a major "update spree" and this story turned out to be the first that I was lenient enough to continue. Not that my other fanfictions are going down the drain, mind you. See for yourselves and you might all just be surprised at how miraculously productive I have been. And that's completely saying something. :) Haha…

But really! I have an impossibly long summer vacation and how rude would it be if I didn't use that precious time? I'm actually very envious about those who can continue their stories like nothing else happened in their lives. How come I was not born that lucky? Or even just a wee bit more diligent! All right… I'm ranting. On with the fic!

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

Killua never liked doing the laundry. He did not like how his hands became macerated from being soaked in water for so long, and he detested the odor of laundry detergent. But what he hated most was that no matter how much he scrubbed away, the scent of fresh blood on his clothes would not disappear completely.

Holding the piece of clothing to his face, Killua sniffed for the fifth time and alas! There still was the scent of blood. It was all he could do not to rip the apparel into shreds, considering that it was his favorite.

"Killua?" Gon fumbled his way towards the tiny bathroom where Killua was, for the sixth time, scrubbing his black turtleneck. "Lunch's ready. Aren't you finished yet?"

"Obviously not, Gon." Killua groaned.

Gon sighed. "That's what you get for not listening to me." He said, sticking out his tongue at Killua. "I told you to wash it immediately but no… you just had to wait for another two days."

"Don't start with me, Gon. I'm already very pissed here." Killua threatened, his eyes glinting malevolently at the shorter boy. Gon just grinned sheepishly at him.

Of course, from all the money he had _acquired_ three nights ago, he could simply take the damned clothing to a Laundromat, use the best machine and the most fragrant fabric conditioner, and risk getting caught by those persistent YSPD plain clothes. His last trip to a Laundromat proved to be just that. It was not that he was afraid of getting caught; he was already caught once but he had escaped with a flourish. If he willed it, he could simply kill any officer that approached him, but that would simply be downright absurd. He did not kill if he could help it. At least, not anymore.

Besides, the money he got was not entirely his. If that were the case then he would not be living in this silly place anymore, he would have had a better life ages ago, and Gon could already see…

Anyway, if ever he went to a Laundromat and got caught, the police imbeciles would be able to trace his relation to Gon, and that simply would not do. That was the case with the blundering fat ass chief inspector that led the squad who caught him before. Not exactly a squad, it was more of a one-man team. That cat-eyed blond that was so persistent, Killua found him rather amusing. More than amusing, actually... What was his name again? Oh, yeah.

Kurapika.

"KI-LLU-A! Are you listening?" Gon yelled directly at his ear that it felt as if his eardrum had burst.

"What's your problem, stupid! I can hear you perfectly!" Killua retorted as he grabbed Gon fiercely by the collar.

"No, you don't! I've been calling your name over and over but you won't even say anything! You even stopped scrubbing!" Gon retorted back at him and Killua knew that he was referring to when the sound of his scrubbing stopped.

True, Killua did stop. He was lost in his thoughts about that young detective, the only person whom he _allowed_ to put him behind bars. If only the blond had not handed him over to their idiot chief, he would still be locked up and had possibly gotten the death sentence. Why he did not simply kill the lad the moment he realized who the blond was was still a mystery to him, even though he had killed the chief quite easily. Or maybe that was because the moron made the idiotic mistake of threatening him with Gon's safety.

"Tch," he scowled and released Gon.

"You were thinking of something, weren't you?" He hated how Gon could read him like an open book. And that was saying something considering the boy was blind.

"No."

"You know you can't lie to me."

"Shut up, Gon." Why on earth was he still thinking about that blond anyway? It was not as if he was someone of importance. No, he was not. He was definitely not. Besides, it had practically been years since he last saw the blond and that was down at the city jail when he…

The sound of cloth being ripped brought Killua back to his senses.

"Ah! Killua, what are you doing?"

"Huh, what? I was – AH!" He stared ludicrously at the torn piece of garment in his hands. Unknowingly, he had ripped his favorite turtleneck and his jaw dropped dramatically as he held what was left of it to his face.

"What did you do, Killua?"

"It's obvious that I ripped it, stupid! You heard it!" He yelled at Gon. "And now it's ruined!" His eyes became comically huge with tears as he stared at the garment in disbelief.

"But why did you rip it? What were you thinking about anyway?"

Killua's head snapped to Gon's direction. "I was… I was…" He gritted his teeth. His whole body was starting to feel hot at the images being conjured by his mind at the moment. He could feel his cheeks burning – not only his cheeks actually, but his whole face. Luckily, Gon could not see him.

Where the hell did that thought come from anyway? He was sure he had forgotten about it, about that… _incident_. He had _tried_ to forget it. He was absolutely not himself at that time, absolutely not. It was all because of his stupid hormones, he had reasoned out at that time. So why the hell was he thinking about it?

"Killu – Hey! What are you – Killua!" Gon yelped as Killua roughly pushed him out of the bathroom. "What are you doing? You're acting really strange! You – mmph!" Gon stiffened as something wet collided with his face; Killua apparently threw the ruined turtleneck at him before slamming the bathroom door shut.

_This is wrong. This is so wrong!_ Killua screamed mentally at himself as he leaned on the door, cursing himself for even thinking about that blond.

* * *

To say that Kurapika was irritated would be an understatement – he was downright _mad._ It was absolutely no surprise that his senior's goons were not able to even acquire an appropriate profiling of Killua. They were impossible airheads that inhaled carbon dioxide and exhaled oxygen that was necessary for normal functioning of the brain.

"Did you hear what I said?" Kurapika's voice was dense with exasperation. He was getting tired of having to repeat himself for the nth time that day. "Killua Zaoldyeck has been infamous with his long record of felonies ever since he was seven. Typically, Law Enforcement statutes list juvenile cases these young of age under mere misdemeanors or, in a psychological point of view, conduct disorders. But as you are all aware of, his case is an exception. He commits first-degree murder without having to bother being caught by evidence or even witnesses, much more by the police. There is also the fact that he is a hired killer from a notorious syndicate as evidence by the randomness of his crimes and that most of his victims belong to those of high economical status." He pointedly glared at the bespectacled inspector assigned to the case. "Going at him head on is like plunging your arm in a tub of nitric acid despite knowing you'd be burned. Which, on layman's terms, means you're either really stupid or you're a plain dumbass."

Menchi burst out laughing from her place by the door of the chief's office. Surely, after three years of not seeing the blond she was quite amused at how rich his language had formed. The Kurapika she worked with on the squad before was a definite freshman who still abided strictly by the law enforcement codes, was polite to his superiors even if most did not deserve it, and rarely became angry. The first time she saw him enraged was the time the blond quit the force. Today was the second.

Out of sheer whim, she had persuaded the young lad to come to the police office that morning to meet with the officers assigned to the twerp's case and, if possible, _enlighten_ them about Killua. Kurapika came out of respect for Menchi and the reason that he wanted to know their progress on Killua as of present. Menchi had laughed on the phone and told him he would be disappointed and as such, the blond _was _completely appalled at how little the squad knew about their culprit.

The blond had arrived at the station early that morning but now it was already noon. He had spent approximately four hours in berating the inspector assigned to the case, who had insulted him the very moment he had stepped into the office.

"This girly kid's the detective who caught that twerp?" was the man's friendly greeting for him. Luckily, Menchi was quick to haul a fresh batch of curses at him that was more than effective to silence him.

Leorio, the inspector, was now glaring back at Kurapika as well. For him, the task of a law enforcer is to apprehend the culprit head on, not to use some mind-boggling scheme to lure him out and get him from behind his back. Kurapika rolled his eyes at this logic; Menchi was definitely right when she told him that law enforcers at present were either obese ducks or anorexic airheads. The solid proof was standing in front of him.

"Who're you callin' a dumbass?" Leorio snapped at him. "For your information, we had tried setting a trap for that brat countless times but they obviously don't work!"

"And going straight at him with the whole task force will? If that's what you think then you're more of an idiot than I initially thought you were." Kurapika spat at the inspector. "If it isn't quite obvious, you'd only know that Killua has committed a crime the moment he has finished murdering his victim and surprise! He's already escaped. If you can predict when and where he would initiate a kill, then perhaps apprehending him so bluntly will work. But seeing as you have such a miniscule amount of information on him, I highly doubt you'd be able to pull it off."

Leorio was apparently fuming, having been humiliated thoroughly by both his Chief and the "girly kid". Even though he did not want to admit it, the blond was right. They had but a small amount of information about Killua, the most significant would be that the brat lived on Shooting Star Street, which only proved to them how notorious the kid was. Even with the full task force and a number of SWAT teams, you could not simply barge into the Street and search for your culprit. The Street was home to an overwhelming population of serial killers, notorious organizations, drug dealers and the like. It was not a surprise if the whole Street was part of the Underground Society. Not even the government dared to cross paths with those of the Street, simply because some of the officials _were_ part of the organization.

Justice and integrity truly was extinct in the world of politics. For what reason did they even need the law for?

As such, it was not possible for them to search for and apprehend Killua at his residence – the whole task force would be flat out annihilated.

"If you're such a smartass," Leorio snapped out of his pondering when he heard Tompa speak. "Then why don't we have a copy of your police report that time when you caught the twerp?" Tompa said to Kurapika, his eyes glinting mischievously at the blond.

There was silence for a moment before the blond answered. "Unfortunately, Killua took all of the police reports I have submitted that day he killed the former Chief and escaped."

"All of them? But that's quite stupid of you. There isn't only one police report for every case."

"Oh. And do you think Killua is stupid?" Kurapika sneered at Tompa, who glared back at him. "Most embarrassingly, he was able to take all of the police reports – even the duplicates."

"How about yours? Surely you had your notes during that time you were on the case."

Kurapika felt his throat go dry at the moment. He knew having this discussion would otherwise bring forth that particular topic and he had readied an appropriate excuse as necessary. Still, he realized he was not at all prepared now that the question was presented to him.

"That…" He groaned at how meek his voice had sounded and cleared his throat. "That was… _my_ moment of stupidity."

"He even took _your_ notes! Well, that _is_ stupid!" Tompa jeered incredulously. Even Leorio and the rest of the squad were staring at Kurapika, disbelief evident in their gawking faces.

Kurapika glared at the man – or at least, he tried to. He could feel the blush staining his cheeks that he had to lower his head to hide his face, even though that was a clear sign that he was humiliated. And indeed, he was.

That "moment of stupidity" three years ago was the exact reason why Kurapika quit and went so far as to leaving York Shin. He did not quit simply because Killua managed to escape, no. He had a more serious reason behind his decision that no one but him – and most likely, Killua – knew.

The room went silent when Kurapika did not speak. Luckily, the silence was ended by Menchi lashing out again at her subordinates. It was noticeable, though, that she grew curious at how Kurapika had reacted – more curious, to be exact. She knew, even before, that Killua took even Kurapika's personal notes, although the blond never told her exactly how. Before the blond left, she had asked him about it, but Kurapika simply made irrational excuses which were highly unlike him. Now, even after three years, Menchi was still curious. She wanted to know the exact reason, and she will. But she would have to leave that for another day.

"Even if his written notes were taken, Kurapika has a highly functioning brain unlike all of you dimwits!" She outright bellowed at her subordinates, the men trembling under her malevolent aura. "Now as I have said earlier, I wanted you to meet with Kurapika to organize a plan on how we would be able to catch a twerp. A plan that would most likely succeed," she glared at Leorio's direction.

Leorio flinched under the Chief's glare. "Well, how _were_ you able to catch that twerp before anyway? Maybe we can use the same plan."

Menchi cocked an eyebrow at him. "I'm surprised. You actually said something sensible." She said and it was Leorio's turn to glare at her.

Kurapika, having recovered from the scene earlier, grew more solemn at Leorio's proposition. "Unfortunately, I will not agree to that."

"And why not? What plan did you organize before anyway?"

It was Menchi who answered the question. "Given the information that Killua was a hired killer, we had organized for one of the officers in the task force to go undercover as a client. We found out how to contact Killua through one of his former clients which we had arrested on a separate case. Said undercover agent was tasked on personally contacting Killua and luring him to a trap we had set up. The plan was a success obviously, but—"

"It didn't go quite as planned." Kurapika interrupted. Menchi looked at him and – to her subordinate's surprise – there was the rare look of worry on her face. The chief sighed and took out a cigarette as she watched the young lad. Kurapika was clenching and unclenching his fists, his head low, his eyes hidden behind golden bangs.

"The day that we were to initiate the plan, Killua had somehow found out that his deal with our fake client was bogus. When Killua appeared at their meeting place, he appeared to still not know anything. Then he just…" At that, Kurapika was visibly trembling. After taking a deep breath, he said, "He killed the undercover officer there and then."

The room was once again filled with dense silence. Deaths of officers in the field were not uncommon; when you enter law enforcement, death was but a side dish of the main cuisine. Tompa was quick to point this out.

"The poor guy lost his luck then! He died. So what? Anyone expects to die when you're in a… job… like this…" He faltered at the look Kurapika was giving him. Those lucid aquamarine eyes were overflowing with rage and despair that it looked as if the lad could kill with just his stare. Menchi could feel Kurapika's bitterness, and she knew exactly why.

"That undercover agent, Senritsu, was my best friend. If that even matters to you people." Kurapika muttered quietly. His chest ached, and all of a sudden he found it difficult to speak. Tompa was right, of course. One must be prepared to die once they chose this career. But for him, death was still reality proving how cruel it was. At that moment, he found new hatred not only for Killua, but also for himself. He hated Killua for killing Senritsu, and he hated himself for not being able to do anything about it. He even…

"Kurapika was the one who organized the whole plan." Menchi interjected when Kurapika did not continue. "He also personally assigned Senritsu as the undercover agent because she was the most capable of performing the task. It was sheer luck that Kurapika decided to follow Senritsu secretly, instead of letting her go on her own as planned. He was able to arrest Killua on the spot, but Senritsu was already dead by then." Menchi finished and took a long drag on her cigarette. When Kurapika remained quiet, she added, "Kurapika simply doesn't want a repeat of that incident. Sometimes he's too nice for his own good. If it was me, I'd gladly go through with that same plan, if it means I'd have fewer losers around here."

"O-Oi, Chief! That's not a good thing to say!"

"Shut up! Who'd care if any of you imbeciles die anyway?"

There were the retorts of the rest of the squad and Menchi's handful of curses. Kurapika, however, remained silent as he tried to calm his self down. Even after years, Senritsu's death still affected him greatly. He had blamed himself for her death, because he knew it had been his entire fault. His and his alone.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present. Menchi was staring at him with that knowing look of hers. Kurapika forced a smile and faced the squad again. "Regardless, if you want to use the same plan, it's not as if I have the right to hinder you. But I highly doubt that Killua would fall for that again. And as stubborn as you may possibly be," he sent a bored look at Leorio, "I would advise you against going at him head on – unless you would want to die, of course." He added with a sly smirk.

Leorio resumed glaring at him. "And what will _you_ do, huh? Even if you seem to know that brat so well, won't going alone after him similar to signing your own death wish?"

_Oh, I know him, alright. Pretty well, actually, _Kurapika thought bitterly to himself before he answered: "Actually, that was what I did three years ago."

"But you still organized the plan with a squad."

"He did," Menchi blew out a ring of cigarette smoke. "But that's just after he had acquired all information he needed, which he did _alone_. You'd be surprised at how he did it." She took another drag before throwing the cigarette away and blowing out another ring. "I told you, he was the only one who had enough balls to chase after that kid, even if it cost him his life. And what squad are you talking about? It was only me, him, Senritsu and another idiot who agreed to his plan."

Jaws dropped except that of the chief and Kurapika. "Just… just the four of you?" One of the officers asked in disbelief. The present group that handled Killua's case consisted of at least ten officers in uniform and at least five plain clothes officers.

"Our original squad was as numbered as your group now, but most of them quit, obviously." He took a folder from his bag and handed it to Leorio. "I've written there everything that would prove helpful to you. Surely that would be more than enough. Now if you'll excuse me," he turned to Menchi, "I think this discussion is finally over, _Senpai_."

With her hands on her hips, Menchi smirked at Kurapika. "So it seems. And I've asked this countless times already, but won't you just return to the force? I could obviously need a brain around here." Behind her, her subordinates were evidently seething in embarrassment.

"Don't bother, kid!" Leorio scoffed. "No way I'd let you on my tea – ugh!"

"Shut up, dumb brain!" Menchi growled as she kicked Leorio to the wall.

The blond managed a chuckle and a shake of his head. "As you've said before, _Senpai_," he shook Menchi's hand and turned to the door, "I'll work on it alone."

* * *

Killua flopped down on the single bed he shared with Gon. The latter was already asleep and did not stir when Killua practically fell on the bed. He felt surprisingly exhausted, even though he did not leave their small, ran-down apartment at all. He glanced at the open door that led to a makeshift porch; it was actually a fire exit. Why their apartment had a door instead of a window to lead to the fire exit, he'll never know. But at least it provided more ventilation in the otherwise cramped little space they lived in.

The moon was barely visible in the inky black sky. There were no stars; Killua could not remember the last time he even saw a star in the sky above Shooting Star Street. Ironic, wasn't it? It would always be the moon, alone and eerie.

Killua sighed and sat up on the bed instead. His head hurt. But it was not of physical pain. It's the kind that you experience when your head was so full of thoughts that it felt like it would burst at any second. He had been very restless since that morning, when he threw Gon out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He did not want to think of what happened next anymore. Luckily, Gon was as naïve as a toothpick, and only berated him for throwing the wet garment at his face. Though he was sure that the scream he was not able to suppress was very audible…

"STOP!" Killua hissed at himself. He was _not_ thinking about that anymore. He stood up and began pacing around the small room (given that he actually had space to pace in). He was getting all flustered again, and he did not want a repeat of what happened that morning. He was not overly comfortable with anything related to the subject of sexuality, even though he was well into his adolescence. He was not completely clueless, mind you, but he found it a bit bothersome.

Especially since the person he was fantasizing of was another guy.

… **To be continued…**

**

* * *

**

**A/N: **Stop! Stop! DX

It has been so long since I last continued a multi-chapter that I've already – most embarrassingly – forgotten how fun it is. And I just can't stop! I already got the first part of the next chapter down for this fanfiction. I wasn't planning on ending it here but it would be so long already (yes, eight pages for me is long enough) and the last line was the best choice. I hope you all remembered to read between the lines… ;D

And to answer one of the reviews: Yes, Gon is blind – unfortunately. And I haven't forgotten to thank those who have reviewed and put this on alert or favorites so, thank you! Although I do wish there'd be more. And though I would love to keep going on this one, I've still got others to take care of. For the meantime, it wouldn't hurt to give your reviews, would it? Depending on how that goes, I'd be more than glad to put the next chapter earlier than planned. :)

And no, I'm not lying. I seriously have it here already! XP _Matta ne!_


	4. The Next Death

**A/N: **I told you I already have it here! Regardless of the two weeks that went by already. ;D

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Killua stepped out onto the fire exit and leaned on the fragile railing. The metal screeched as he did so, but he paid it no heed. There was a cool breeze tonight, even though it smelled of cigarette smoke and acrid chemicals. He stayed there for a while; the breeze helped calm his tense muscles. Unfortunately, it did nothing to ease his mind from his thoughts which were already overflowing at the brim.

It must have been three years already, since that time he first met the blond face to face. The brat had the gall to sneak into the Street to search for him, only to run into some of the nastiest guys around. And it was just Kurapika's luck that said guys hit on anything that attracted them, regardless of gender. And Kurapika was actually pretty – despite being male. That was a fact. Killua had thought so the moment he first saw him.

Back then, he had helped Kurapika out of a silly whim. He was too good for the morons, he had reasoned. How he laughed his insides out when he found out that Kurapika was a detective, and that he was actually looking for him! Of course, the blond did not tell him that. He found it out by himself. Still, he pretended to be an innocent little teenager who only hung out around the Street; he was not the only person with spiky, white hair who lived there. Kurapika was oblivious that the person he thought was his accomplice was actually the one he wanted to apprehend. Killua gave out details of his own self to Kurapika, not bothering to make up absurd lies, and just enjoyed toying with the blond for a change. He would leave a very obvious evidence for Kurapika every time he killed someone; he would even stick around long enough to watch the blond work at the crime scene. After a day or two, Kurapika would sneak into the Street again, and Killua would listen to him and tell the blond things about his own self, relishing on how the other would somehow believe it all. He enjoyed those times he fooled Kurapika even though the blond was pretty smart that Killua almost gave himself away from time to time. He liked it when Kurapika complained to _him_,of all possible people, about his _work_. Sometimes – it was actually only once or twice – the blond told him something about himself.

Over time, he had come to enjoy the blond's company. Whatever the reason was, Killua simply liked seeing Kurapika and talking to him. Until it came to the point that _he simply liked him_.

The faintest sound of footsteps behind him brought Killua out of his reverie, and he turned around to face a man the same height as he was, dressed in a worn cloak and a sly smile on his lips.

"Can't you even knock?" was Killua's wary greeting.

"Whoever said I entered through the door?" the man replied. Indeed, Killua noticed the slight quivering of the iron steps under their makeshift porch. He mentally kicked himself; he was too preoccupied with his thoughts to have realized another man's presence sooner.

Still, it was not as if he always sensed said man beforehand. Feitan was more or less his boss in this sick business Killua had grown into, and he was far more skilled than the boy was. Feitan could kill him without the boy even noting his presence, and that was a fact. Regardless of his being infamous with the police, he was but another pawn in this sorry game the so-called leaders of the Street had started; he was merely a mask to hide the direr activities that Feitan and his associates executed.

He absently wondered how Kurapika would have reacted to that piece of information. Of course, he had never told the blond of anything about his boss; it was simply something he could not mention of. Giving himself away was one thing, betraying the main organization was another. It was like handing your own head in a silver platter, or something akin to it.

He did not want a repeat of that mess three years ago.

"Tch," Killua scoffed, irritated. "What do you want?" It was not like manners and etiquette were an issue with their kind.

"Easy," Feitan leered at him. "You're in an unusually bad mood tonight," the man said before handing a piece of paper to Killua.

"Another job? It's only been three days."

"Yeah. But some people want some people dead every second; that's what keeps the business going. And you can't help it if you're a favorite," the cloaked man jeered at him, his tone almost amused. "That one's pretty big, so you'd probably get more dough this time."

"As if my share's that big enough," Killua muttered, regarding the piece of paper with a bored look as he flipped it between his fingers. When he raised his eyes again, Feitan was gone.

The boy sighed heavily. He leaned back against the railing and raised his ebony eyes at the starless sky. A mirthless laugh bubbled forth from his lips, and for a few seconds, he laughed scornfully at nothing in particular but himself. Pathetic. Despite being able to end innumerable worthless lives, the fact was that he was a mere puppet attached to strings, unable to do anything but dance to the sorry music of death, fear and unjust.

Who said life was fair?

He lifted the piece of paper to his face and glanced at the contents written on it. The phone number of his new client was written on one side in his boss' ugly scrawl as usual; all he needed to do was to call said client and confirm the request. Most of the clients preferred indirect means of conversation instead of personally meeting with him, practically in fear of Killua himself. Not that Killua bothered with them.

On the other side of the paper was a single word, and it was the name of the person he was supposed to kill. "Nostrad, huh?" he muttered under his breath, his brows furrowed in thought. He knew that name; it was the name of a businessman who appeared in the insufferable upper class society not long ago. The man was quickly ascending the steps of wealth and influence, to the dismay of some of the other members of the society. Killua scoffed. He would not be surprised if his client wanted this person dead due to mere covetousness. In their world of greed, treachery and animosity, death was but the simplest way to rid you of your adversaries for power. It was a wonder why most of them were still alive.

Slumping on the railing, Killua sighed again. He would have to put up with washing the scent of blood off his clothes for another few days.

* * *

A loud scream echoed through the mansion, alarming all of its residents.

"Neon-sama!" The door burst open to a massive room elaborately decorated in pastel pink, albeit disorganized at the moment. At the middle of the room was a young woman, sprawled on the floor as though she had fallen from her seat, which was most definitely the case. She was clutching on the arm of a single high stool that had collapsed with her, a look of utter horror on her face which was framed by pink locks. The area around her was littered with tarot cards, along with an overturned circular table.

"Neon-sama." One of her attendants rushed to her. As soon as the servant came close to her, Neon held tightly onto her instead, clutching the front of the attendant's clothes frantically. "Neon-sama, what is—"

"Father," the frightened girl managed to utter. At that moment, tears spilled from her eyes, and her body was wracked with hysterical tremors. She buried her face against the servant's chest, crying uncontrollably. The attendants who have come to the room regarded each other with looks of confusion, utterly baffled at their mistress' behavior. The servant who held Neon tried to calm her but to no extent; the girl was evidently terrified of a still unknown reason.

Not far from them, another card lay crumpled on the floor, the picture of death flashing ominously under the dim lighting of the room.

* * *

The next morning found Killua sprawled on the floor next to the bed; apparently, he had fallen some time during the night. Sitting up, he scratched the back of his white head grumpily and let out a yawn.

"Morning, Killua!" Gon's perpetual cheery voice came from behind the kitchen counter. "I'm going out, so do you mind cooking lunch today?" The boy then appeared wearing his usual green shirt and shorts, holding a plastic bag in one hand.

The white-haired boy grumbled something along the lines of "Whatever," and crawled back onto the bed. Gon chuckled and fumbled his way towards their small bedside drawer, reaching behind it for his cane. He gave the other boy a quick tap on the head before heading towards the door.

Killua frowned at the sound of the lock clicking. How Gon was able to act freely as if he was normal was definitely beyond him. Even without his sight, the boy would insist on doing tasks that require the particular sense, and he could do them quite well to Killua's amazement. The boy blamed it on Gon's extraordinary resolution; still, it was not as if he had the right to complain.

Still frowning, he remembered that he had his own job to take care of. Sitting abruptly on the bed and snatching his phone from atop the bedside drawer, Killua quickly dialed the client's number, having memorized it already in one glance. As he listened to the incessant ringing, the boy wondered absently about Gon's reaction when he realized that Killua had taken another job. Again. He grinned at the fit the shorter boy would most probably throw.

Meanwhile, said boy was now walking through the crowded Street, unmindful of the activities around him. He could hear the usual bout of curses that rang through the area and smell the obnoxious odor of cigarette smoke and stale sweat. He did not need his eyes to know the scenes presented in front of him, for the image painted in his mind by the noise alone was enough. He trudged forward carefully with his cane as his guide, and was thankful that the people around him knew better than to make fun of him or block his path. Almost everyone knew of his connection with Killua, and that was enough to prevent them from laying even a single insult on the boy, lest they wanted their miserable lives to end in a second. Gon sighed at that fact. He truly wished Killua would stop his senseless job. He knew the exact reason why Killua would not quit, for _he_ was that reason. But of course, there was nothing he could do in his state; regardless of how many times he tried to pound some sense into the other boy's head.

With another sigh, Gon continued forward. After a few minutes or so, he felt the air around him significantly change; he had already left the Street and was now more or less facing the stretch of road that separated their district with the rest of York Shin. They were considered outcasts, unsurprisingly, and Gon smiled bitterly at that notion. Only a few vehicles traveled through this particular road, for fear of being assaulted by those of the Street, making it a fairly easy task for Gon to cross it.

He reached the other side of the road and made his way blindly through a few dark alleys with nothing but stray cats for company. It was not long before he heard the bustling city noise, and a moment later he stepped out into the busy shopping district, careful not to get hit by a passing pedestrian. A huge grin drew on his lips at another trip well done. He marveled at how he could go to places almost effortlessly despite his sightlessness, having mapped out his paths with Killua's help before. With only a few turns he would reach the grocery store that he always went to, and in less than half an hour he would be finished with his errand.

"Ah, Gon-kun, grocery shopping again?" greeted the skinny bearded man at the counter as Gon stepped into the store. He was but one of the individuals who were amazed at how the boy could come and go as easily as if he was not blind.

"Good morning, Netero-san!" the boy said, giving a huge grin at the direction of the old man. He fumbled his way from the door to the counter; oblivious of the stares the other customers in line were giving him. "I am. I hope you don't mind." He took a piece of paper with some bills from his pocket and held it in front of him, along with the plastic bag.

Netero took the paper, the bills and the bag from the boy's outstretched hand, smiling thoughtfully. "Hohoho," he laughed softly. "Of course not, dear boy. Ponzu, come here!" He gestured to one of his helpers.

A young lady with green hair and wearing a pink cap appeared from behind one of the shelves. "What is it, Netero-san? Oh, Gon-kun!" she said when her eyes fell on the boy. "It's been a week." Ponzu smiled and Gon did the same.

"Hope you don't mind me bothering you again."

The young lady shook her head and took Gon's list from Netero, the old man returning to manning the counter. "You know you always got help here, Gon." And it was true. Despite being a total stranger, Gon's cheery disposition earned him a good reputation with the store's owner and his staff. Gon simply needed to hand a list of his groceries and one of the staff would pick them up for him while he waited at the side like a good little boy. And well, he actually was.

After about fifteen minutes, Gon felt a hand ruffle his hair and he raised his unseeing eyes in front of him. Ponzu took his hand and made him hold the plastic bag, now full of the groceries he had asked for. "Here you go, Gon," she said as she placed Gon's list and change on the boy's other hand.

"Thanks, Ponzu-san!" the boy replied cheerfully.

"No problem. Now you take care on the way home, ok? I still don't get how you manage to come all the way here on your state, no offense meant."

The boy chuckled. "It's a secret." He grinned and felt Ponzu ruffle his hair again. Of course, they did not know that Gon lived at the Street; the boy knew better than to tell them that. "Thanks again, Ponzu-san, Netero-san." He bowed lightly at the direction of the old man and Ponzu helped him towards the door, his cane in tow. With a last wave, he exited the store and stepped onto the sidewalk.

He started retracing his steps towards the alley that would take him back to the Street. As he turned on a corner, he noticed that it seemed as if fewer people were walking alongside him. Blind as he was, he failed to see the "Danger" sign on the side of the road and the workmen currently hauling a grand piano to one of the upper floors of the apartment block. The busy workmen also did not notice the boy as he continued to walk under them, and it was only when the cable snapped that they did so.

"Oi, kid! Get out of there!" one the men shouted at him but all it did was make Gon stop right below the piano.

"What—"

There was the sound of something snapping loose and the workmen exclaimed in horror as the ropes binding the piano broke and the massive instrument fell – directly towards Gon.

"KID! GET OUT OF THERE!"

It was then that Gon sensed that he was in danger, but not knowing what his situation was, he merely froze on the spot. All of a sudden, he felt someone grab him by the waist and he was thrown roughly to the ground. The next second, there was a deafening crash as the piano smashed to the ground, horrified screams echoing around him.

"What the—?" Gon managed to articulate as he tried to lift himself from the ground. He then noticed that someone else was beside him, the person's arms still wrapped around his waist. "Who—"

"Are you all right?" the person beside him said and Gon felt the arms circling his waist disappear.

The boy blinked uncertainly and nodded slowly, turning his face to the direction of the voice. "Y-Yes… I think I am," he said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. But you really should pay attention to the things around you; didn't you see the Danger sign?"

At that, Gon shook his head. "No, because I'm… I'm blind, you see." He gave a weak smile to the stranger that saved him. The other seemed to realize this and gasped, apologizing profusely. "No! It's all right! I don't mind," the boy quickly added.

"I'm really sorry," the stranger said. "But what are you doing alone? You should have someone with you, especially with your state."

"I don't really need someone to accompany me. I always walk by here and this is the first time this has happened." A thought suddenly came to Gon. "Oh, so that's why there seemed to be fewer people earlier," he mumbled, more to himself. He heard the stranger sigh and felt the other move, then a moment later he was being pulled to his feet as well.

"Oi, kid," another voice rose and Gon turned toward it. "You all right? Not hurt, aren't you?" The boy noted the hoarse quality of the voice and the hint of worry in it. He shook his head and was about to reply when the person beside him suddenly intervened.

"You should really be mindful of your job, mister," the stranger snapped. "This boy could have been dead by now."

"We know that," the other man retorted. "But it's not like we could keep an eye on every person passing by and we already put up a sign!"

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, this boy is blind; meaning that your sign is completely useless and—" The stranger stopped when Gon put a hand on his arm.

"It's all right, mister," the boy said. "It's my fault, anyway." Gon could practically feel the heated stare that the stranger was giving him. "I'll be more careful next time." Without another word, he pulled his savior away and hurried down the block.

"Why did you—"

"It's fine. Really," Gon insisted. "You don't need to put yourself in an argument because of me. And it's clearly my fault because I couldn't see the sign," he added. If Gon was not blind, he would see how baffled the other was at his behavior.

"You almost got killed and you're just fine with that?" the other asked, incredulous.

"Well, you saved me, didn't you? And I'm still alive, so there's nothing I could complain about anymore." The boy grinned widely and the other simply stared at him, apparently bewildered.

"You're strange," was his reply.

Gon laughed merrily at him and said, "You think so? Still, if it wasn't for you I really might have died back there. So thanks a lot, uh…"

"Kurapika," the stranger supplied.

The boy nodded. "And I'm Gon." He held his hand out which Kurapika shook willingly. "Thanks again, Kurapika."

Kurapika smiled at him, then, remembering that the boy was blind, quickly said, "No problem." Gon grinned back at him and Kurapika could not help but feel at ease with the boy. There was something about Gon that made him trust the boy regardless that this was the first time they met. As he wondered why a sightless boy would be left alone in the midst of a hazardous and crowded city, a sudden yelp from the boy jerked him from his appraisal. "What's wrong?"

"My groceries! Oh, and my cane!" said the boy and he turned to gather his things, which were most probably strewn across the road by now, but Kurapika held him back.

"You stay here, Gon. I'll go and get them for you," Kurapika offered and Gon simply agreed. He basically could not do the task on his own. The boy stood by the side and waited for Kurapika, unaware of the countless stares that people were throwing at his direction. Kurapika, however, did not fail to notice this, and he glared back in frustration at the bystanders who merely stood still when Gon was about to be crushed. Really, some people could be infuriatingly indifferent to others as long as they could save their own necks.

The blond hurriedly picked up what remained of Gon's groceries. Thankfully, the boy's cane was still intact. He walked back towards Gon holding the lighter plastic bag and the cane. "Here, Gon. Sorry, but I couldn't salvage some of your groceries," said Kurapika.

Gon shook his head, a radiant smile on his face. "It's all right, Kurapika. We'll just have to manage with fewer groceries this week."

"We?"

"Me and my best friend," the boy replied. Kurapika wanted to inquire further about his friend, but decided that he did not have the right to. Instead, he simply offered to buy what was missing in Gon's groceries, but the boy frantically shook his head at him in response. "No need to! You've done a lot, already, Kurapika. I don't want to bother you further," the boy said hastily. "I'm sure you have your own things to take care of. I'll be fine by myself now."

But Kurapika replied, "I can't just leave you in your state, Gon."

"I'm fine, really," the boy insisted. Kurapika was really kind, he thought, but he did not want to cause him any more trouble. "Please. I know how to get home from here, even if I'm blind. Trust me."

Kurapika regarded the boy thoughtfully. Before he could reply, however, his phone went off. Pulling the phone from his coat's inner pocket, he glanced at Menchi's flashing name on the screen. _Senpai? What for? _He thought before remembering that he was not alone. "Are you sure you can manage by yourself, Gon?" he asked as his phone continued to ring.

The boy nodded at him. "I'm sure. Don't worry," Gon said as he pointed his cane in front of him. "We're in front of a pet shop, right?"

Kurapika blinked. Indeed, they were. He was surprised at how Gon knew of their location, but then he noticed the constant barking of the puppies on display and figured that the boy must have based his assumptions on that. "We are," he replied.

"Then I'll just have to take this alley here and I'll be home," the boy stated, and Kurapika realized that the boy's cane was now pointing at the direction of an alleyway between the pet shop and another store. The blond blinked again.

"You amaze me, Gon," he commented. Then, his phone still incessantly ringing, he smiled and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "All right, but make sure you get home safe, will you, Gon?" The boy grinned back at him and thanked him again. He watched as Gon led his way towards the alley with his cane, then the boy turned back at him and with a last wave, he was gone.

Kurapika smiled. It was not every day that he met someone like Gon, and he silently hoped he would be able to meet the boy again.

Turning back to his phone, which had rang for possibly the twentieth time already, he pushed on the Answer button and held it to his ear. He was met with an ear-splitting cry of "Kurapika!" from none other than Menchi herself. Scowling, Kurapika replied, "W-What is it, Senpai?"

"Why won't you pick up your phone?" It was apparent that Menchi was in a really foul mood, given that she was shouting even at Kurapika.

"Sorry, I was busy with something," was Kurapika's excuse. "What's wrong, Senpai?" He silently hoped that the chief would not want him to return to the police station for another conference; he absolutely did not appreciate the idea of having to face again those hoodlums which were here subordinates. But the words that Menchi said next were enough to turn Kurapika on his heels and make him rush towards the station:

"We've received word about a probable assassination tonight. And we're guessing, Kurapika, but we think it might be Killua."

**... To be continued ...**

**

* * *

A/N:** Yes, I know. It's very obvious who's going to die next. ;D

And alas! Another chapter, folks. I'm getting addicted to this story that I literally can't sleep with all the ideas flowing into my head. I'm starting on the next chapter right after this is published. But I dare say: I'm not getting my expected number of feedbacks for this one so **PLEASE REVIEW**! I know there isn't much action between the pairing yet but it's well underway, and it's really important for me to know if this is being read or not. But thank you so much to those who have put this on alert/favorites! And to MARYLOVER for always giving her reviews! ;D

I've got one more week before school starts so I'll try to put in as many updates as I can before hell swallows me whole again. Ciaossu! :)


	5. Countdown

**A/N: **A very huge thanks to** asdfasdfg** for giving the last chapter a review! XD Seriously, I wouldn't have been able to update if you didn't. So here's the next chapter!

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

An hour before, Kurapika had barged into the police station and found the squad scampering around like frantic little mice, with the chief barking out orders like there was no tomorrow. An hour later, he found himself sitting at the back of a patrol car beside an apprehensive Menchi, headed towards the mansion of one the city's influential businessmen, Nostrad.

Apparently, they have received a call early that same morning from a young woman claiming that she was Nostrad's daughter. She had stated that her father's life was in danger and that the police had to help him. When questioned of how she knew about this, the young lady simply said that she _knew_ and that she was certain about it. A background check of the informant, who had introduced herself as Neon Nostrad, revealed that she was a talented tarot reader, known for giving predictions that never failed even once.

"My guess is that the girl foresaw her own father's death," Menchi had said, clicking her tongue in disbelief.

"You don't believe that, do you?" Kurapika had asked. He knew how skeptical his senior could be, and having a tarot reader for an informant was not exactly high in her list.

"I don't. But if you heard just how hysterical she was on the phone, you'd have second thoughts yourself." And so, they were off.

The other members of the squad, most particularly Leorio and Tompa, had expressed their disapproval on having Kurapika accompany them, but Menchi was intent on taking the blond with her as long as Killua was concerned. When Kurapika had asked how she knew that it was Killua, the chief had replied that it was merely a hunch, but the blond questioned her no further. It was not always, but Menchi's hunches were more or less right on the mark more often than not.

Now he sat silently beside the anxious chief, thinking of nothing in particular. If he even considered Killua as nothing, that is.

There was still no concrete evidence that a homicide will occur tonight or if Killua would even be the culprit. If it all did turn out to be true however, then there was no guarantee that he could avoid meeting the boy. He would have to face him sooner or later, whether he be prepared or not, because it was his obligation to apprehend him. Somehow though, the idea of Killua being captured again seemed to unsettle him.

It was with a jerk that he realized that Menchi had been calling him. "Yes?" He turned to face his senior who, to his puzzlement, had an odd look of curiosity and seriousness on her face. "Senpai?" It seemed as if Menchi was contemplating her words carefully before she spoke again, and it was not what Kurapika expected to hear.

"There's something you aren't telling me," the chief pronounced with certainty. It was not a question, Kurapika knew, and he was clearly taken aback by the statement.

"W-What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said," was Menchi's reply. She pulled out a cigarette from inside her coat, lit, and made a long drag on the stick. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with Killua." She turned her sharp gaze back at Kurapika, who was apparently at a loss of words at this turn of conversation.

Needless to say, Kurapika was stunned. "Senpai, what are you—"

"I know you have another reason why you left before, besides Senritsu's death and the twerp escaping," she hastily added when the blond appeared to retort. "Even after years, I can still read you quite well, Kurapika. Though perhaps it comes with the profession," Menchi said matter-of-factly, before regarding the blond seriously once again. "I want to know what that reason is, Kurapika."

Kurapika gaped at her. All this time, he had thought that his mask was perfect, but Menchi just proved him wrong. He wanted to argue that what the other was saying was mere nonsense, but he knew the effort would be futile against Menchi. Before he could reply however, the car had already come to a stop.

They had arrived at the mansion.

* * *

Killua flipped the phone shut and collapsed back onto the bed. The deal had been set: he was to kill the head of the Nostrad family and his daughter for half a million zennies. _Half a million_. Needless to say, Killua was appalled. It was the first time anyone had invested such an enormous amount of money just for someone's death. It was now apparent that this Nostrad person had crossed more lines than was necessary in their society's sorry game for supremacy, and to his misfortune, will now be paying the price not only with his own life, but also his daughter's.

Not that Killua bore sympathy with them. He was nothing but a hired killer; a cold-blooded killing machine, to use Feitan's own words. He would do his assignment of eliminating his targets and go on with life like nothing happened, if you could even call it life. The only thing he appreciated of his line of work was the pay, and ten percent of half a million was more than enough of what he needed for Gon's operation.

Perhaps, after this job, he could finally quit. He was only in it because he wanted to earn enough for Gon.

"Tch, who are you kidding?" Killua muttered bitterly to himself. There was simply no possibility that his boss would let him loose. For them, he was merely a dog chained to its leash, capable of only doing what its master had taught it to.

He rolled to his side and glared at the wall. He never wished it to be like this. His whole life had been marred with bloodshed and violence, all because he made that single mistake of being born in this living hell. His parents had been hired killers themselves, and evidently, he was to follow in their steps. At first, he felt ecstatic about his so-called future, and the first murder he had committed brought an indescribable feeling of mirth and obsession in him. He relished the fear that came from his victims, the look of horror on their faces as they breathed their last. Being able to end another life was bliss for him, and he took pleasure in every second of it.

His parents died when he was seven, and since then he had resorted to petty acts of theft, public disturbance and destruction of property. He had been brought in for a couple of juvenile hearings, but he would simply escape after a day and resume his illicit routine. At age ten, Feitan found him and brought him into to their syndicate. He was initially trained on how to be a professional killer by his current boss, but before his first official kill, he had been assigned to mere drug trafficking and thievery. It was during his twelfth year that Feitan decided to give him his first homicide, and that was when he met Gon.

His first job had been nothing but simple: there had been a dispute between two companies dealing in winery, and one of them decided to take things more critically. Thus, the need for his services.

The deal was to eliminate everyone in the company, from the head to the helpers, in exchange for fifty thousand zennies. A small amount for a mass homicide, yes, but it was not of Killua's concern. His only task was to commit the murder, and for a first, he had done practically well. In less than an hour, he had killed most of the employees; the only one left was the president. He was still unaware of that little boy who had the gall to call the police for help, despite the inevitable death of every person around him.

Killua had just finished killing the president, a woman in her mid-twenties, when he heard the wail of the police sirens from afar. Cocking an eyebrow at the sound, he had turned his back on the bloody corpse only to face a spiky-haired boy holding a cane and glaring at him with huge almond eyes filled with pure hatred. He appeared to be two years younger than Killua, but the white-haired boy did not have time to appraise him more as the other boy charged at him and attempted to hit him with the cane. It was a feeble attempt, of course, for Killua simply evaded it as he stepped to the side. He had wondered why a young boy would have a cane, but he soon found his answer when said boy grasped blindly in front of him, having lost hold of his cane when he fell down after attacking Killua.

At that, Killua had _laughed_. He had laughed until his insides hurt. Why wouldn't he? A blind boy was trying to hit him! For Killua, it was simply hilarious. Because of that, he had failed to notice that the boy had already found his cane and he jerked when he felt something collide with the top of his head. He had cursed magnificently and snatched the cane away from the boy, snapping it into two effortlessly. But the boy was still intent on attacking him, and he had no choice but to hit him back. The boy, however, relented and continued to pounce on him.

Killua had grabbed him by the neck and pinned him roughly to the floor with one hand, his other hand clutching a knife and already poised to cut the boy's throat. But something in the boy's unseeing almond eyes made him stop: there was nothing there but pure hatred and resolve. There was not even a single ounce of fear evident in those orbs which glared back at him with utmost intensity. And something stirred in Killua. The next thing he knew, he had tied the boy's hands behind his back and was already dragging him out of the factory, with the small boy trying to free himself relentlessly. He only stopped his fidgeting when a loud explosion came from the factory, and the boy froze, finally realizing his situation. Killua had not stopped to survey his work, instead he continued on, dragging the now helpless boy behind him. He brought him back to the Street, where Feitan surprisingly did not protest on him bringing back a supposed victim. But then, his boss had probably noticed that the boy was blind, which was the least of their worries. What could a blind boy possibly do anyway?

"Oi," Killua had said.

"I have a name," the boy had retorted. "And it's Gon."

After that, Gon had not uttered another word for months. When he did again, it was only to argue with Killua. Why he even bothered sparing the boy's life, Killua would never know. Maybe it was because, unlike the countless victims he had slain during and after that first job, Gon had never showed him fear, something that he truly admired in the boy. He simply could not bring himself to abandon Gon no matter what he did. In one of their arguments, Gon had pointed this out, with Killua replying that he did not give a damn about what Gon thought. To Killua's surprise, the boy had said the exact words he would have deemed never to hear from anyone:

"You're just a boy like me, Killua. No matter what you say or do. And you'll always be just that."

And since then, in an absolutely bizarre twist of fate, they had come to be the best of friends. It was completely absurd, yes, and painstakingly unusual to become friends with the person who killed your family. But it did not take Killua long to conclude that Gon was anything but normal. Gon was the only person who had accepted him for who he truly was, regardless of his profession and background, something that not even his parents deemed worthy of paying attention to. Because the truth was, he really was _just a boy_.

And that was why his goals in life changed indefinitely. He went on with his work not because he wanted to anymore, but because he wanted to send Gon for an operation. It was his fault anyway, thinking that the boy would have had one if his family did not die. As such, he had come to be bored with all of the senseless killings, losing the pleasure he had felt before he decided on his new resolution. The only thing that added spice to his endeavors was being able to pull the legs of the foolish police officers, who had been on his tail since the winery massacre. Instead of blaming Gon for having the police know about him, he had even thanked the boy.

Besides, he had met Kurapika because of that, didn't he?

A playful smile tugged at the corners of his lips as Killua's thoughts wandered back to the cat-eyed blond. It was ridiculous, but all that Killua wished now was to have an easy life with Gon and maybe – just maybe – he would be given another chance to see Kurapika again. After all, there was actually no use denying it. Not that anyone would care about him being attracted to the blond.

Though he would not want Kurapika coming back here; that was too risky. Especially since his boss was not at most happy with the fact that Kurapika had managed to infiltrate the Street before or that Killua already had a connection with him.

The sound of the door being unlocked brought Killua out of his thoughts. How long had he been reminiscing? He sat up again just as Gon pushed the door open, a bag of groceries in his hand and his cane on the other.

"Yo," Killua greeted. "Already finished?" He leapt from the bed and took the bag from Gon, placing it on the counter.

Gon nodded at him before slightly frowning. "You haven't cooked yet, have you?"

Killua blinked and chuckled nervously at him. "Well, I was… uh… thinking about things," he reasoned. Then he proceeded to rummage childishly through the groceries, noting that the bag seemed to have less than usual. Not that he cared, as long as Gon did not forget his chocolates. _Here they are!_ The white-haired boy thought in glee, eyes sparkling at the large bar of chocolate he now held in front of his face.

"Mou… you could have at least started to," Gon whined at him. The shorter boy sat himself on the bed, contemplating on whether he would tell Killua of the piano incident or not. Before he could say anything, however, Killua beat him to it.

"Ne, Gon," Killua started. The other boy turned to look at him, and with a sigh, he continued, "I'll be going out tonight." He averted his gaze from Gon's; he already knew how the boy would react.

There was a moment of silence and soon enough, Killua felt something hit the side of his face harshly. "Gon!" Killua retorted, surprised. Apparently, the other boy had thrown a pillow at him. "You're supposed to be blind! How'd you even know where to throw?"

"Because I always know exactly where you are, stupid Killua!" the other boy barked at him. Killua gawked back at him in disbelief; sometimes, Gon was too strange he found it creepy already. "And why are you going out again? I told you to stop it already!"

"Tch, as if that'll be enough." Killua almost cringed at the intense glare Gon was sending in his direction. "You know I can't just quit from this job just because I wanted to," he said and did not fail to notice Gon's stare slightly quiver under his words. "Besides… the pay's pretty high this time, so you'd probably be able to have that operation in a few weeks' time," he added, trying to lighten up the conversation.

Gon knew Killua had been saving up for his operation for so long already. If he had not forgotten, Killua had told him that the type of operation with the highest prognosis would cost them at least a hundred thousand zennies. Gon knew just how much Killua receives from his assignments; it was sufficient enough for both of their needs, yes, but not for Gon's treatment.

The boy sighed, listening as Killua busied himself in the kitchen. He knew arguing with Killua would be useless, no matter how stubborn he tended to be. After all, what _can_ a blind boy do?

* * *

The enormous iron gates creaked open as the patrol cars slowly entered the mansion's massive front yard. A minute later, Kurapika stepped out of the car, followed by Menchi.

It was not exactly what the blond had expected. As his aquamarine eyes surveyed their surroundings, Kurapika found the place quite _odd_, for lack of a better term. The front yard was not as festive and appealing as what was commonly expected; the grass was left untrimmed and the trees appeared to be withering. A few uniformed individuals, whom Kurapika guessed to be the mansion's own security personnel, patrolled the grounds at a steady pace. And there were dogs, many of them, loitering around the yard, regarding them with menacing hound looks. There were also different statues erected around the yard, which made the place look more eerie by the second.

His confusion must have become evident on his face for Menchi said, "This Nostrad appears to have quite a fascination with eccentric artifacts and the like." Then she snorted in disgust. "If you ask me, this place just looks like there's a voodoo witch living here. Though it doesn't really surprise me," she muttered, "with him having a tarot reader for a daughter and all."

Kurapika did not know whether to agree with his senior at the statement. Menchi could be overly skeptical at times that the blond wondered if it was still a good trait or not.

He followed the chief towards the front steps of the mansion, where Leorio was already engaged in a conversation with a man who had a dark complexion and his wavy hair tied back in a ponytail. When they came near, the inspector and the man turned to them.

"It seems there hasn't been any problem yet, Chief," Leorio reported. "Still no sign of that twerp, as usual."

"We're not even certain that something will indeed happen tonight," Menchi replied. She turned to the man and nodded, holding out her badge. "York Shin Police Department, Chief Inspector Menchi. Have there really been no disturbances as of yet, Mr.—"

"Skwala," supplied the man. "And no, ma'am, there haven't been any disturbances yet since our mistress declared of the danger."

Menchi clicked her tongue. It was evident that she wanted to question the certainty of this so-called declaration, but she settled with, "Would you mind taking us to Mr. Nostrad?"

The man named Skwala responded with "Certainly," and they were led through the front doors into an elaborately ornamented hallway. Kurapika walked behind Menchi while Leorio stayed to give orders to the rest of the officers before following them. Once again, Kurapika was appalled by the bizarre decorations that adorned the hall. There were countless peculiar paintings and sculptures that seemed to depict uncanny phenomena, and the blond was led to believe that perhaps Menchi was correct on her previous remark of the place.

Skwala led them up a grand staircase and down another hall with more or less the same decorations. The only difference was that a couple of men wearing what appeared to be mafia suits lined the whole length of the hall, standing stiffly and wearing an impassive expression on their faces.

They stopped before a mahogany-bound double door and after three swift knocks, Skwala ushered the three of them into the room.

It was an office, with a couple of leather chairs arranged in front of a large oak desk. There were also a number of uniformed men in the room, most probably for immediate protection, along with some female attendants. Seated on one of the leather sofas were a young lady, with bright pink hair and wearing what looked like a fortune teller's garb, and a man in a dark brown suit. A momentary expression of relief passed through the girl's face at the sight of them.

"Finally," the girl said, clutching a bundle cards to her chest. "I thought you'd never come."

Menchi strode towards the girl and the man, holding out her hand for them to shake and introducing herself with an air of significance. "You must be Miss Neon." She nodded to the girl who nodded in turn.

"I am. And this is my father," Neon said, gesturing towards the man beside her.

"Sir," Menchi said, and then she gestured for Leorio to come closer. "This is Inspector Leorio. He will be in charge of the security around the premises, and I would suggest that your own head of security collaborate with him. I have not mentioned of this during our conversation earlier," she glanced at Neon, "but there is a high possibility that we know of this supposed culprit. As such, we would like to be prepared as much as possible to be able to apprehend him, just in case."

Neon visibly stiffened at Menchi's words, but her father placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her. "I understand," Nostraid said, a weary smile on his lips. "This place is highly equipped with the latest surveillance equipment. There is a hidden room where my bodyguards monitor all of the cameras," he explained and motioned for Skwala. "Skwala will take you there. Perhaps that would be of help to you, Inspector."

"Then I'd best be there," Leorio said, giving a curt salute to Menchi before following after the tanned man.

Kurapika's gaze followed the two; apparently, the chief's subordinates did know how to act properly during an assignment, despite their momentary idiocy. He heard his name being called, and he turned to see the chief already seated on the couch parallel to the one the Nostrads sat on.

"This is Kurapika," Menchi stated as the blond sat down beside her. "He's a former colleague of mine in the force, but his knowledge of our believed culprit is of high importance. Miss Neon," she turned her serious gaze on the pink-haired girl, "would you mind elaborating on what you have informed me on the phone earlier?"

Neon nodded and took a deep, calming breath before explaining, "I'm a tarot reader. I can read anyone's immediate future through these cards." She placed the bundle of cards she had been holding on the coffee table in between them. "And as far as my clients tell me, there have never been a discrepancy on my predictions."

"Your clients?"

"Yes," the girl replied. "You see, people in our society are always anxious about what the future holds—"

"And so they seek out your predictions and use them to their benefit," Kurapika interjected to which Neon nodded, albeit sullenly.

"Exactly," the girl said. "Mostly, it has something to do with the result of upcoming auctions, or of important business deals and even romance." She glanced hesitantly at her father.

"I'm assuming that this is how you earned your wealth, Nostrad-san," Kurapika stated, and the man nodded.

"Individuals in my profession are blinded by wealth and greed, and they would do anything."

"And you're already one of them," Menchi stated candidly. "No offense meant, of course. But then, you are basically using your own daughter to gain money and influence—"

"I know," Nostrad said sharply. "I know of that, and I'm aware of this dangerous game I have been playing. But you must know that once you have started playing, you can never stop."

Silence fell for a moment and Kurapika could not decide whether to feel sympathetic or dismayed at such a principle. Beside him, he knew Menchi was having similar thoughts, though the impassive face of the chief belied nothing.

"That is not the point," Neon suddenly spoke, breaking the silence. "I called you here to protect my father, not to question his actions," the girl added with contempt in her voice. "I help my father with his business of trading artifacts, and my predictions benefit us as well. Mostly, people use of my predictions to prevent unwanted outcomes, like when a deal that is supposed to turn wrong becomes right. But," she bit her lip, "there is always one kind of prediction that no one has ever prevented from happening…" Her words trailed off and it was with a shuddering breath that she broke into tears.

Kurapika need not hear what kind of prediction it was for he already knew. From the deck of cards on the table, he picked up the topmost card and sure enough, it was the card depicting death. He closed his eyes. There was a question nagging at the back of his mind, and before he knew it, the words had already slipped from his mouth.

"What makes you sure that your father is the only one targeted, Neon-san?"

Clearly, the girl had not expected the question. Her blue eyes widened at Kurapika, tears staining her cheeks. "What do you mean?"

"If we are correct on our assumption of this suspect, then you would have to know that he is a hired killer. Meaning he would kill your father because a possible rival in your business had paid for his death." The blond placed the card back on the pile and continued, "If this is about your business, which is most definitely the case, then there is a high possibility that _you_ may also be killed."

A single look of horror appeared on the Nostrads' faces; even the attendants and the bodyguards in the room were stunned at this revelation. Beside him, Menchi pinched the bridge of her nose as a smirk made its way to her lips.

"I'm insinuating, Miss, but you can't predict your own future, can you?"

With a horrified expression on her face, Neon slowly shook her head and broke down again, crying. Her father appeared no less calm beside her.

Menchi let out a huge sigh and stood up, pulling out her transmitter and calling for a unit to come to the room. "In any case, we have been on this suspect's trail for so long, and we'll try our best to capture him and protect you both. No, scratch that. We _will _catch him," the chief said definitely. With a jerk of her head, she motioned for Kurapika to follow her and the two of them exited the room, keeping the door open behind them. "I see you still haven't lost touch," she commented.

"I'm sure you have thought of the same, Senpai," the blond replied. "You even knew that she couldn't predict her own future."

"Ah, it usually comes with the package. I've watched too many odd flicks to know," she stated off-handedly. "And I'm pretty sure you were going to bring that up, too, if I haven't." The blond only gave her a smile as a reply. "In any case, we'll have to organize a plan. That girl seemed to be very sure that it will happen tonight, so we don't have enough time to dwindle."

"Aren't we tackling him head on?" A voice came from behind and they turned to face Leorio. "If it's that runt, then we have the upper hand now because we know he's coming." He turned a hard gaze on Kurapika. "You're the one who said that that's the prerequisite to directly apprehending him."

They glared at each other for a moment before Kurapika spoke. "Perhaps," he said curtly. "I do admit that it would be the most sensible plan to act on, considering the amount of time that we have."

"Then it's settled," Menchi said as she clapped a hand on Kurapika's shoulder. At that moment, the unit that she had asked for had ascended the stairs and was now coming towards them. "I'll stay with the Nostrads. Kurapika, you go and perform surveillance with Leorio," she ordered.

"Wouldn't it be better if I stayed here? In case Killua does show up, you'll need back up," Kurapika suggested, albeit half-heartedly.

"I'd _want_ you to stay here, but I don't trust this goon too much, so I'd prefer you be with him," the chief replied much to Leorio's dismay. "Besides, with the man's bodyguards and this unit I called for, we should be enough." At that, she gave the gun on her holster a quick pat. "I haven't used this in a while."

Kurapika's chest tightened mysteriously at the simple gesture, and the thought of Killua being shot was far from comforting.

"Now, go on. We don't have all day. Killua will most likely move during the evening, and it is way past noon already. Dispatch your officers accordingly, Inspector. We can't let this chance go to waste," Menchi stated and turned her attention to the unit she had called, giving out specific orders.

Sighing, Kurapika followed after Leorio and they reached a dark room at the end of the hallway. The room was hidden behind a large portrait of what looked to be a depiction of Purgatory. A full set of monitors occupied one side of the small room. Kurapika assisted Leorio in dispatching the rest of the squad as Menchi ordered, assigning them to their respective patrol areas around the mansion. After a few hours, they were set. All that was left to do was to wait.

And so, they waited.

Until finally, evening came, and the whole mansion was swallowed in darkness that did not permit even a single light to escape.

* * *

**A/N:** Finally! XD I thought I'd never get through this one. Fuu…

And so there you have it! The big moment is next chapter, so I hope you guys continue reading. And don't you dare forget to **REVIEW**! I know Neon was OOC, but there was just no way that I can change her role. So forgive me on that note, _ne?_ And it's not like she'll be around for long. XD Thanks for reading! Ciao. ;D


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